In Search of Aunty Democracy

One of these Saturday posts last month included a pair of 1920 cartoons by Clifford Berryman featuring Miss Democracy, a common representation of the Democratic Party at the time but which has long since disappeared from the scene. Here she is with door-to-door book seller Vice President Thomas Marshall 100 years ago.

"Who Was He?" by Clifford Berryman in Washington Evening Star, February 17, 1920

It got me to wondering where she came from, and in spite of much digging and wandering down rabbit holes, I haven't been able to uncover anything written about her. There has been plenty written about the Democratic donkey, Republican elephant, Tammany tiger, Uncle Sam, Brother Jonathan, Columbia and so forth, but I haven't found any discussion of this lady.

"Lan' Sakes, What'll I Do with 'Em?" by Clifford Berryman in Washington Evening Star, November, 7, 1912

Berryman was not alone in popularizing the character, who was variously labeled "Miss Democracy" or "Aunty Democracy." The word "Democracy" here was a common reference not to the system of government but to the Democratic Party (as noted back in my posts about R.C. Bowman). A dowdy, usually bespectacled woman of a certain age, she typically dressed in frilly clothes that would have been fashionable in the mid- to late 19th Century.

"Hen(dricks)pecked" by Thomas Nast in Harper's Weekly, August 5, 1876

One often turns to Thomas Nast as the originator for such things, even though he did not invent either the Democratic donkey or the Republican elephant as commonly supposed. He did depict the Democrats' 1876 Vice Presidential candidate Thomas Hendricks as a frumpy "Mrs. Tilden" once or twice (nowhere near as often as he drew cartoons of the "rag baby" representing the Democrats' attempts to make a campaign issue of inflation), which hardly seems sufficient exposure to inspire the next generation of cartoonists to use "Mrs. Tilden" as a template for Miss Democracy. Besides, "Mrs. Tilden" was, ipso facto, married.

"Aunty Democracy" by Charles "Bart" Bartholomew in Minneapolis Journal, August 30, 1899

The earliest incontrovertible examples of Aunty/Miss Democracy my admittedly less than exhaustive research have turned up are by Charles "Bart" Bartholomew of the Minneapolis Journal in 1899. Here he is making a pun on "Aunty" and "Anti"; whether he was taking advantage of a name and character already in existence I cannot say for sure. Bart returned the character to half a dozen or so cartoons that year, and not always to exploit the pun.

"Modern Ulysses and the Siren" by Charles "Bart" Bartholomew, in Minneapolis Journal, September 28, 1899

Cartoonists often cast Miss Democracy in the role of a spinster eager for a mate, but also as the pursued maiden.

"And the Williams Still Pursued Her" by Fred Morgan (?) in Philadelphia Inquirer, 1904

Here she is fleeing William Jennings Bryan and William Hearst, by a Philadelphia Inquirer cartoonist I presume to be Fred Morgan. She's listing hosts of her party's presidential nominating conventions from 1896 to 1904. Does "First I tried New York" mean that she came into existence with the 1896 campaign?

"A Critical Inspection of the Candidates" by Bob Satterfield for Newspaper Enterprise Assn., 1904

Bob Satterfield offers an example of "Aunty Democracy" that isn't trying to make an "anti-democracy" pun — at least, I don't think she's trying to fry the Democratic hopefuls under her magnifying glass. That's twice former President Grover Cleveland under the table, and twice unsuccessful (thus far) nominee William Jennings Bryan in the waste barrel.

"Trying to Stick Them Together" by Rowland C. Bowman in Minneapolis Tribune, 1901

Aunty Democracy isn't seeking a mate in Satterfield's cartoon, or in this one by Bart's crosstown rival, my old pal Rowland C. Bowman. Bowman departs from convention by naming her "Dame Democracy," and in at least one other Bowman cartoon, she has children of her own.

"Iowa Has Done an' Dud Up 'at Old Dead Tat" by R.C. Bowman in Minneapolis Tribune, 1901

I like Bowman's use of alliteration, but among his peers, "Miss Democracy" was her most common moniker.

"Trespassing" by Thomas S. Sullivant for Hearst Newspapers, ca. May 12, 1908

Which brings up the question of why there wasn't a similar character to represent the Republican Party. Surely there were ample occasions when some Miss Republicanism might go a-courtin', or receive gentlemen callers, as in this cartoon in which Joseph Keppler compares Teddy Roosevelt's endorsement of William Howard Taft for the 1908 GOP nomination to The Courtship of Miles Standish.

"The Courtship of Bill Taft" by Joseph Keppler in Puck, April 24, 1907

I've always pictured Priscilla Mullins (a distant relative of mine, whom one of my aunts was named after) as a more attractive woman than this, given that Miles Standish and John Alden both fall for her. So I find it odd that Keppler drew her this way when in earlier cartoons, he had represented the Republican Party as an idealized female specimen.

"Shooing 'Em In" by Louis Dalrymple in Puck, June 1, 1892

But if Keppler couldn't decide what Miss Republicanism ought to look like, neither could his fellow Puck cartoonists.

"Her Pet" by Frederick Opper in Puck, April 13, 1892

Frederick Opper also gives Miss Republican two completely different guises. If these three influential cartoonists couldn't agree what Miss Republicanism ought to look like, what possible hope was there that she would ever catch on with the rest of the nation's ink-stained wretches?

"Their Time Has Come Again" by Frederick Opper in Puck, July 27, 1892

Returning to Miss Democracy, then. She gradually fell out of favor with the generation of cartoonists who followed Bart, Clifford Berryman, et al. (So too does the use of the word "Democracy" to refer to the Democratic Party.) One doesn't find her in the cartoons of the Ashcan School, or, for that matter, most leftist cartoonists using any media.

"What I Want I Can't Get" by Silvey J. Ray in Kansas City Star, 1952

The latest examples I've seen of her are in the 1950's, by which time everything about her is way out of date. She was incongruous to the party of organized labor, civil rights, and progressivism. Nevertheless she persisted, pursuing and being pursued.

"'Tis But Thy Name That Is My Enemy" by Herbert Block in Washington Post, February, 1950

Herblock, from what I've seen, used her only to represent the Dixiecrat wing of the Democratic Party, and hardly ever at that. He included the above cartoon in his first book, in a chapter largely about using stock characters versus caricatures of actual politicians; of this cartoon, he wrote nothing about her but mused that the joining of Dixiecrats with the G.O.P. might necessitate creation of a new stock character someday.

"Harry—What a Hat!" by Leo Joseph Roche in Buffalo Courier-Express, June, 1956

In conclusion, here is the most recent cartoon appearance of Miss Democracy that I know of, in which she is stunned by former President Harry Truman's receipt of an honorary degree from Oxford University.

Dashing Through to 1920, Part 2

Soloback Saturday devotes today's installment to a single cartoon from December, 1919.

"The Honorable Mentionables for President, Subject to Revision" by John T. McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, December 21, 1919

John T. McCutcheon's tour de force on the 1920 presidential race uses nearly the entire alphabet to list all the potential candidates. (He couldn't come up with anything for the letter Q, and apparently overlooked I. The ninth letter of the alphabet is out of order, and I see no marcher holding it.) Some of the meter doesn't quite span well; but on the other hand, the cartoon is the earliest one I've come across to include the name of the eventual Democratic nominee.

But I'm still not going to tell you who he was yet.

The pages of broadsheet newspapers were much larger then than those of any U.S. newspaper today, allowing McCutcheon's cartoon approximately 6" x 8" of front page real estate. Yet I suspect that he might have wished to trade his spot that Sunday for Frank O. King's full page on the front of of the editorial section.

Since you may not have 6" x 8" of screen space to read the cartoon, and it has been nearly impossible to clean this image enough to be as legible as I'd like it to be, here's McCutcheon's poetry in full:
A is for Allen of Kansas, a man with considerable pep.
B is for Baker and Bryan, same party, but quite out of step.
C is for Cox and for Coolidge, Champ Clark, former Speaker, you know.
D is for Dawes, Daniels, Denby, Davis of Morgan and Co.
E is for Everyone mentioned whose name we've completely forgot.
F is Fair Field and No Favor, and all that sort of rot.
G is Goodrich and Gerard, both Jameses, W. and P.
I.
H is for Harding and Hoover; you've heard all about Herbert C.
J is for Senator Johnson; the covenant pleases him not.
K is for Kenyon and Kellogg; their chances are not very hot.
L is for Governor Louden; Illinois is loud in his praise;
He's willing to move to the White House; the job of President pays.
M is for William A. MacAdoo, Vice President Marshall as well.
N is for No One Yet Mentioned, but of course, you never can tell.
O is for Orators plenty; they'll talk till you're totally deaf.
P  is for Poindexter and Palmer, and Pershing of the grand A.E.F.
Q.
R. is for Root, Reds and Radicals, the opposite ends of the pole.
S is for one who is known as the Hon. Gov. Sproul.
T is for Taft, William Howard; he served in the White House before;
He liked it while he was the tenant, and would probably like it some more.
U is for Senator Underwood, not supposed to be out for the place.
V is for Votes that will settle which candidate wins in the race.
W is for Wood and for Woodrow; their figures loom big in the sky.
W is also for Watson, who is said to be willing to try.
X is for X-candidate Hughes; he used to run four years ago.
Y is for Yank, both doughboy and gob; he'll play a big part in the show.
Z is for Zero, the hour next June when all of the world will know.

🎉

Ah, well. I did say that there would be only one cartoon this week, but since you've been such a good boy and/or girl, I'll throw in a second one about the Democratic presidential hopefuls.

"The Snow Man" by Clifford Berryman in Washington Evening Star, December 29, 1919

And yes, the eventual nominee is in here, too.

Treaty Defeaty

Centuryback Saturday returns by popular demand! Okay, just one person said anything, but who am I to disappoint a reader, even a wee bit?

"Out of the Uniform..." by J. N. "Ding" Darling in New York Tribune, November 25, 1919

As it happens, we're just about at the centennial of the the U.S. Senate adjourning a special session on November 19, 1919, without ratifying the Versailles Peace Treaty to end World War I.

"Shamed" by Nelson Harding in Brooklyn Daily Eagle, November 21, 1919

Senate Foreign Relations Chair Henry Cabot Lodge (R-MA) offered a counter-proposal to join the League of Nations "with reservations." Chief among his reservations was that under Article X of the League Covenant, the U.S. surrendered to the League the power whether or not to declare war.

The Members of the League undertake to respect and preserve as against external aggression the territorial integrity and existing political independence of all Members of the League. In case of any such aggression or in case of any threat or danger of such aggression the Council shall advise upon the means by which this obligation shall be fulfilled.

"The Convalescents" by Bill Sykes in Philadelphia Public Ledger, November 19, 1919

Bill Sykes may have been the only cartoonist to hold out some hope that ratification of the treaty might still be achieved. He is one of very few cartoonists to address President Wilson's health head-on. (A month and a half after his stroke, it was obvious to any observer that Wilson was seriously ill in spite of the administration's lack of complete public transparency. On November 24, a prank phone caller even convinced Vice President Thomas Marshall at a public speaking appearance in Atlanta that Wilson had died.)

"Compromises" by John McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, November 20, 1919

Yet although Lodge was able to patch together a bipartisan coalition in favor of his counter-proposal, Wilson sent Senate Democrats a letter charging that Lodge's resolution "does not provide for ratification but rather for nullification of the treaty. I sincerely hope that the friends and supporters of the treaty will vote against the Lodge resolution." Enough Democrats backing Wilson's opposition, plus isolationist Republicans and Democrats opposed to membership in the League at all, denied Lodge's plan the required two-thirds majority of Senators.

John McCutcheon's cartoon above ignores the fact that Republicans refused even to allow debate on any treaty but Lodge's substitute for the one worked out at Versailles. Lodge, for his part, was more than happy to see Wilson suffer a political defeat, and to have the treaty remain an issue into the 1920 presidential campaign.

"It's Hard to Keep a Mud Turtle..." by Homer Stinson in Dayton Daily News, November, 1919

The Senate was scheduled to return in regular session on December 1, but would again fail to take any action to ratify the treaty, with or without reservations, by the time it adjourned in March. Ironically, as far as Mr. Lodge's concern that the League might commit U.S. to declare war against its will, the Senate's failure to ratify the Treaty of Versailles meant that the U.S. remained at war against the Central Powers.

"Aw-w, Look What You Went an' Done" by Bill Sykes in Philadelphia Public Ledger, November 21, 1919

Even if the guns weren't firing, the continuing state of war still had some pesky practical consequences ...

"The Slip 'Twixt the Cup and the Lip" by John McCutcheon in Chicago Tribune, November 22, 1919

But that will have to remain a topic for another Saturday.

Off to the Races

If you think the 2020 presidential race has started too early, you would probably have found agreement with most people 100 years ago about the 1920 contest.

But not in the press.

"The Sphinx" by Carey Orr in Chicago Tribune, January 6, 1919

Nor in political circles, where the end of World War I was tailgated by speculation that General John "Black Jack" Pershing might throw his peaked cap into the presidential ring.

"General Pershing's Politics" by Ted Brown in Chicago Daily News, ca. January, 1919

Political cartoonists of the day didn't know whether to peg the popular general as a Democrat or a Republican, which made it difficult for the more partisan among them to decide whether to draw him favorably or critically. But for someone who had been champing at the bit to charge the German lines, Pershing showed no eagerness to cross the line into party politics.

"Won't He Show Some Interest..." by Herbert H. Perry in Sioux City (IA) Journal, ca. February, 1919

Although he and President Wilson were in accord on military policy for the Mexican Punitive Expedition and World War I, Pershing was in fact a Republican. There would be an effort to draft him to accept the Republican presidential nomination. Pershing remained coy throughout, letting it be known that he had no interest in a political campaign but "wouldn't decline to serve" if elected.

He wasn't.

"Harmony!" by Edward Gale in Los Angeles Times, ca. February, 1919

The progressive and conservative wings of the Republican party were largely agreed on the major issues of the day: they opposed Wilson's wartime nationalization of the railroads (not intended as a permanent measure anyway); they opposed those high income taxes on the rich we mentioned last week (favoring high tariffs instead); and most opposed involving the U.S. in international organizations such as Wilson's cherished League of Nations. Opposition on that last front was led by Senators Henry Cabot Lodge of Massachusetts and William Borah of Idaho; although as far as Lodge was concerned, his opposition was more politically strategic than principled.

"The lute without rift" in Gale's cartoon references Alfred Lord Tennyson's "Idylls of the King," in which Vivien uses the phrase as a simile for a tiny disagreement that rots a friendship:

"It is the little rift within the lute

That by and by will make the music mute,

And ever widening slowly silence all."

"O for the Touch of a Vanished Hand..." by William C. Morris for George Matthew Adams Service, ca. February, 1919

Former President Theodore Roosevelt's plans to run for president yet again were spoiled by his death in January, leaving the political class wondering to whom the GOP would turn in 1920. William Morris's cartoon depicts the Republican party gazing forlornly at its fallen hero, dissatisfied with alternative candidates Gen. Leonard Wood (a friend of Roosevelt's and the early favorite), Senators Hiram Johnson, Borah, Lodge, Warren Harding, and, on the floor, former President William Howard Taft.

The caption is another reference to Tennyson: this time, his poem "Break, Break, Break," written to mourn the death of his dear friend and champion, Arthur Hallam.

"...A Shortage of Skilled Chauffeurs" by Jay N. "Ding" Darling" in New York Tribune, February 27, 1919

On the Democratic side, party leaders were ready to move on and replace the incumbent president, but lacked an obvious heir. Nowadays, the incumbent vice president usually has the inside track to win his/her party's nomination when a president retires, but that was not the case any time before World War II.

"An Opportunity that Didn't Materialize" by Carey Orr in Chicago Tribune, ca. January, 1919

Vice President Thomas Marshall had twice proven his usefulness to the Democratic ticket in helping carry Indiana, then a swing state. He was a popular, witty guy; you may have heard of his "What this country needs is a good five-cent cigar" remark (to a senator expounding a rambling vision for America). Or perhaps you've heard his tale of the father of two sons, one who went off to sea and the other who became Vice President, and neither of whom was ever heard from again.

"Now Just Where Is Our Vice-President At?" by W.A. Rogers in New York Herald, ca. January, 1919

In spite of being the first President and Vice President to serve two terms together since 1817-25, Marshall and Wilson did not get along well. Wilson didn't trust Marshall and in a contravention of tradition, went around the Vice President to deal directly with senators.

Whatever policy differences the two might have had, it seems to me that it was more of a matter of personal style: the priggish and scholarly Wilson didn't appreciate the Hoosier's candor and sense of humor. Wilson moved Marshall's office out of the White House ostensibly so that the Vice President would not be bothered by so many visitors. Marshall was, however, left in charge of cabinet meetings while the President spent extended periods of time in Europe negotiating the Paris Peace Accord.

"Made His Pile and Went Broke" by R.O. Evans in Baltimore American, ca. January, 1919

A more likely successor to Woodrow Wilson as of 1919 was his recently resigned Secretary of the Treasury — and Wilson's son-in-law — William McAdoo. His bold policies, notably closing the New York Stock Exchange for four months at the start of World War I and thus preventing European governments from liquidating their stock holdings, turned the U.S. from a debtor nation into the world's leading economic powerhouse. He also was in charge of U.S. railways during the war. He had a shameful record on racial discrimination, but that wasn't going to hinder anyone's presidential aspirations in those days.

"President Wilson Declares He Will Return to Private Life in 1921" by Wm. C. Morris for George Matthew Adams Service, ca. March 1, 1919

On February 28, Wilson announced that he would not run for a third term. Democrats were probably not quite as distressed by his decision as Morris depicts.

Republicans ran against Wilson anyway.

Q Toon: Pondering President Pence

Monday, I mused that this, my third cartoon of 2017 with Mike Pence in it, could set a record for the most times I have cartooned a Vice President in the first year of his term. Since then, I have checked, and the record in fact stands tied for now.

I drew three cartoons of Dan Quayle in 1987. (For the record, I drew two cartoons of Al Gore in 1993, and none of George H.W. Bush in 1981, Dick Cheney in 2001 or Joe Biden in 2009.)

Being nominated to run for Vice President used to be an honor akin to having a post office building named for you: that's nice and all, but everyone is still going to call it "the post office." FDR's first Veep, John Nance Garner, is quoted as having said that the vice presidency was "not worth a bucket of warm piss." Woodrow Wilson's Veep, Thomas Marshall, had a joke about a man with one son who went to sea and drowned and another who was elected vice president; neither son was ever heard from again.

Nowadays, we reserve one of the election debates for the vice presidential candidates, but other than pundits, cartoonists and members of the nominees' families, nobody really pays any attention to them. If any memorable lines come out of the running mate debates — e.g. Lloyd Bentsen's "You're no Jack Kennedy" or James Stockdale's "What am I doing here?" — the comments nearly always come from November's losing ticket, so the candidates are better off being forgettable. (Quick: who debated opposite Mike Pence last year? No fair googling the answer!)

Presidential nominees usually select their running mates with November in mind, not the next four years, or the possibility of accession to the presidency. Veep candidates are often picked to provide geographical or ideological balance to a ticket; Kennedy-Johnson is an example.

Richard Nixon introduced a new twist to the calculus of selecting a running mate with his choice of Spiro Agnew: once they were elected, Democrats couldn't get rid of Nixon without ending up with someone they considered worse. (He just didn't count on Agnew having to resign first.)

Donald Berzilius Trump's strategy last year used both the Kennedy-Johnson calculus and the Nixon-Agnew calculus. Pence has the bona fides with the party's Christian Right that Trump lacks, which cemented their support for the ticket and this administration. Meanwhile, liberals stomping their feet that Trump must be impeached have been cautioned that in many ways, having Mike Pence as president would be worse.

It certainly looks that way from an LGBTQ perspective. Trump admitted as much with his reported remark that when it comes to gay rights, “Don’t ask that guy—he wants to hang them all!”

The New Yorker article which recounts that Trump comment also discusses an antigay bill Pence signed as Governor of Indiana:

In the spring of 2015, Pence signed a bill called the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, which he presented as innocuous. ... But then a photograph of the closed signing session surfaced. It showed Pence surrounded by monks and nuns, along with three of the most virulently anti-gay activists in the state. The image went viral. Indiana residents began examining the law more closely, and discovered that it essentially legalized discrimination against homosexuals by businesses in the state. ...
The outcry over the Religious Freedom Restoration Act was enormous. Gay-rights groups condemned the bill and urged boycotts of the state. Pete Buttigieg, the young gay mayor of South Bend, who is a rising figure in the Democratic Party, told me that he tried to talk to Pence about the legislation, which he felt would cause major economic damage to Indiana. “But he got this look in his eye,” Buttigieg recalled. “He just inhabits a different reality. It’s very difficult for him to lay aside the social agenda. He’s a zealot.”

While the article does say that Pence was not the force behind the passage of the bill in the legislature, his record is littered with antigay zealotry. As head of the Indiana Policy Review in the 1990's, he advised employers not to hire gays and lesbians, writing,

“Homosexuals are not as a group able-bodied. They are known to carry extremely high rates of disease brought on because of the nature of their sexual practices and the promiscuity which is a hallmark of their lifestyle.”

In Congress, he groused when the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. Hate Crimes bill was signed into law in 2009, complaining that it advanced a “radical social agenda” and would have “a chilling effect on religious expression, from the pulpits, in our temples, in our mosques and in our churches.” He was against the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA) on the grounds that "Either the employer has to ban employees from having a Bible at the workplace for their break time, or displaying Bible verses, and thereby face a lawsuit under title VII for religious discrimination, or the employer then has to continue to allow it and face a potential lawsuit under ENDA by the homosexual employee."

Pence voted against the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," arguing the shibboleth that repeal would damage military readiness and recruitment. He co-sponsored the Federal Marriage Amendment, which would have enshrined denial of marriage equality for same-sex couples into the U.S. Constitution.

Finally, the issues page from Pence's 2000 campaign web site demanded "an audit to ensure that federal dollars were no longer being given to organizations that celebrate and encourage the types of behaviors that facilitate the spreading of the HIV virus. Resources should be directed toward those institutions which provide assistance to those seeking to change their sexual behavior."

That passage is a dog-whistle to advocate spending federal money on "conversion therapy," the widely discredited practice of using psychological torture techniques to reprogram LGBTQ patients into believing they are straight and cisgender. Pence's spokespeople now deny that he was talking about conversion therapy — I suppose one could argue that he was calling for resources to be spent on institutions which convince LGBTQ persons to settle for a life of celibacy — but that's a distinction without much difference.